Pushed
by soiheard
Summary: Immediate sequel to Push. Kira has just touched down at the North American Division Facility while Nick and Cassie begin to pick up the pieces back in Hong Kong.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Push or any of its characters.

**Warnings: **Since this is an immediate continuation of the movie, there are some MAJOR SPOILERS.

**Note: **Okay, so I thought I'd try and pick up where Push left off. Let me know what you think - this is my first fanfic here

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 1**

* * *

_Division Facility, North America_

The cool night air stung her skin as she emerged from the plane, the cloying temperature of the cabin giving way to an icy gust that blew her sweat-matted hair from her forehead. Sitting for however long it had taken to get from Hong Kong to North America opposite a dead body had taken its toll on Kira.

Her entire body moved tentatively as she recovered from the trauma of recent events. With every step, she seemed to leave a portion of it behind; the lies, the frustrating fact that she, a Pusher, had been Pushed by someone else. She had killed recklessly tonight, but the remorse in these thoughts dwindled as soon as she remembered that sometimes it was necessary, which led to the rather shocking realisation that Division had tainted any trace of morality she had left.

She needed to get back to Nick.

The acknowledgement rang out in her head, clearing the haze and causing her to stop in her tracks. She had to get back to Hong Kong or tell him to come to her. Her gaze strained against the smothering darkness as she tried to find any sign or signal as to where she was; a few uniform white buildings stood out a short distance away, bright artificial light streaming from their few windows and illuminating walkways between long building blocks.

The sight almost made her recoil as memories came flooding back, breaking through the ever-weakening mental dam Pushed into her mind by Carver. This was where she had been held; the place she had made such an effort to escape. She was back again – she felt her knees come close to buckling.

There were heavy footfalls approaching and for a moment she panicked, her eyes flicking around the empty, pitch black space as she searched for somewhere to hide. Four guards came into view, emerging from the darkness in uniforms as black as the night's sky above them. They seemed to blend in, camouflaged, their heads the only things that were completely visible. Had it not been for the bright building behind them, Kira would not have noticed them at all.

She heard a gun cock and tensed, glancing around to find the source of the noise. The guard to her left had her gun raised – the guard to her right placed his hand on his colleague's gun and forced it down.

"We got a message from Carver earlier on. Leave her."

With a consenting grunt, the gun was lowered altogether. Kira looked up as the right guard turned his attention to her.

"Where's Carver?"

Powered by instinct more than common sense, Kira felt the familiar, migraine-inducing sensation of Pushing as she replied. "He's still in the plane. He won't be out for a while – just wait outside."

She suppressed a wince as the muscles in her iris strained painfully from the effort of Pushing four people at once. A few silent seconds passed before they nodded and moved on, disappearing into the darkness, the heavy sounds of their simultaneous footsteps fading away. Tugging her jacket closer around her body, Kira continued towards the building at a considerably quicker pace; she didn't have long. She hadn't Pushed the pilot.

She slipped in through the automatic doors of Building One before they relocked, heading straight along the corridor without looking back.

_Division Facility Cell #418 – Mirabelle Holmes  
_

She stared through the thin mesh bars of her cage, her eyes glazed and empty. Her entire body felt like lead and she felt too weary to even lift a hand to brush an errant strand of hair from her face. Her last dose had been little more than an hour ago, though it was easy for Mirabelle to lose track of time in her semi-comastose state.

She heard a short succession of mechanical beeps as the keypad on her door was unlocked and the cage around her bed, on which she was sprawled in an awkward position, fell to the side. She turned her head on the solid mattress with as much effort as it would take anyone else to run many miles; now she could see him.

He approached, a tender smile on his lips as he closed the door carefully behind him, surveying Mirabelle with immense pity in his eyes and a glint of self-restraint. Looking away ashamedly, he pulled the cap off the syringe in his hand and felt his heart pound in protest as he lined the syringe up with the vein and delicately applied pressure to the plunger.

Mirabelle's eyes widened – like they did whenever she had one of her visions – and then closed, her eyelids fluttering together and every muscle in her body uncoiling obediently. The sedative ran its course until Mirabelle was entirely still but for the shallow breaths lifting her chest almost unnoticeably.

He put the syringe back in its place on his belt; the belt that all subject guards wore to carry the drug. It would leave her in peace, he hoped, at least for another hour…

In cruel contrast to that thought, a siren tore through the air and the red lights lining the corridor flashed so brightly that his eyes had to take time to adjust. Stepping out into the corridor and closing the door protectively behind him, sealing the body of Mirabelle Holmes safely inside, his eyes scaled up and down in search of the cause of a code-red alert.

_One minute before – on the plane  
_

The electricity on the plane had been turned off as per regulations, all except for the lights of the cabin behind for fear Carver would be irritated if put into complete darkness. Anxious, as he always was in the presence of the man, the pilot emerged from his cabin and within seconds his hand was on the plane's alarm lever.

His eyes stared with unblinking horror at the man's body and at the blood splattered on the wall behind him. The gun was still held loosely in his lifeless hand; as frantic guards stormed into the cabin, it fell with a light thud that seemed to resound through the entire facility.

* * *

_I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you think - Chapter 2 should be up soon._

_~soiheard_

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Note:** Thanks for the reviews! I hope you enjoy this chapter.. as always, let me know what you think.

* * *

**Chapter Two**

**

* * *

**

_Emerald Garden Restaurant, Hong Kong_

Nick swept the remains of a meal-for-two from their chosen table and sat down heavily, lifting his satchel off over his head and dropping it down on the empty chair next to him.

Cassie watched as the leftovers of someone else's meal showered the chair on which she was about to sit and frowned. "_Nice_."

Nick looked up at the girl, his eyes following her as she sat down. "Sorry," he said, his sarcasm evident. "I didn't think you were expecting gourmet."

She rolled her eyes at this, thumbing absent-mindedly through one of the provided menus. This puzzled him – while he was sitting quite apprehensively, glancing every so often over his shoulders to check that they weren't being followed, she was trying to decide between egg fried and vegetable rice. There seemed to have been a strange sort of role reversal.

The corners of his mouth twitching in amusement, Nick nudged the menu down from in front of her face and raised his eyebrows. "You OK?

"I'm fine," she answered, too quickly for it to seem like an honest answer. "I'm just…" She trailed off, though it wasn't an immediate pause; Nick leaned across the table slightly, curious to find out what she had just seen of the future.

"What?"

Cassie's eyes cleared of their distant look and she called for a waiter, glancing at Nick as she did so and telling him quickly, "We need to get the Cantonese Chicken and then we need to leave."

He couldn't help but smirk at the demanding tone of her voice. "Whatever you say."

She gave the waiter her order and watched impatiently as he collected the small container from the kitchen hatch, drumming her fingers in a frantic rhythm on the tabletop. As soon as the meal arrived, Cassie grabbed it and stood up, pushing her hair behind her ear and making for the exit; Nick struggled to catch up with her, putting one hand on her shoulder once they emerged into the crowded street.

"What's the rush?"

"Don't talk, walk."

His hand dropped from her shoulder and he dug it in his pocket, shaking his head at the prospect of taking orders from a thirteen year old girl – despite the fact that he had been doing so ever since he had met her.

"What did you see?"

"Doesn't matter." She said dismissively, standing on her tiptoes to look over the heads in the crowd.

Nick tittered and tried to follow her gaze. "What are you looking for?"

"Can you see a sign anywhere? A green neon market sign?" she asked distractedly, her head turning this way and that. Nick peered around the corner and nodded, pointing in the right direction.

"There."

Cassie grabbed a fistful of his sleeve and pulled him quickly through the crowd, stopping just next to the sign and the hypermarket from which it hung. She glanced at her watch, sweat beading on her forehead as the pressure to get everything _right_ increased substantially. As she moved her wrist to look at the small clock face, the Cantonese Chicken container slipped from her hands and Nick stooped instantly in an effort to catch it before it splattered on the pavement.

At that moment, a sniper bullet shattered the hypermarket window at just the spot where Nick's head had been less than a second before.

_Nick's apartment, Hong Kong_

Teresa's throat hurt.

The yelling had done nothing to help her – in fact, it had left her in an even worse position, having shouted herself hoarse. Giving one last push at the ropes binding her to the chair, Teresa winced as they pressed into her torso and fell back hopelessly, furious that she had been left in such a vulnerable state.

She should've known the deal wouldn't be as easy as that _girl_ had made it out to be. In retrospect, Teresa wondered why she had ever trusted the word of a fully grown woman with a _lollipop _in the first place. "All we need is the case," the girl had told her. "Finish him if you have to."

She had, essentially, done her duty. It just seemed she had ended up in a rather impossible situation because of it.

With a defeated sigh, Teresa's posture sagged and she looked with false hope at the door every time she heard footsteps passing.

The door didn't open for the next four hours by which time the night had reached its darkest, quashing even the strongest of artificial light outside and leaving the interior of the apartment pitch black. Her eyes blinked furiously until she saw nothing but vague outlines – but it was enough. It was enough to keep her focused, enough to stop her from succumbing to the fatigue gnawing at the back of her mind.

And then the door opened -- Teresa's eyes lit up.

_Back in the city, Hong Kong_

The entire crowd had scattered on both sides of the supermarket window – late night shoppers had fled to the other side of the supermarket, while those out on the street had recoiled collectively into the main quadrant. Nick and Cassie were exposed now, the only two people remaining out in an open space on the street.

Nick tugged forcefully on the shoulder of Cassie's jacket, but she had gone rigid, her eyes strangely out of focus as if she was looking at something faraway. Disregarding the fact that she was probably Watching something, Nick hoisted the girl up and led her into the shadows, Moving the door to the back supermarket store room open with a powerful wave of his hand and dragging the girl inside.

He slammed the door closed with another hurried gesture and looked down at her, his eyes narrowed, demanding an answer. Cassie blinked and met his gaze before turning and pacing around in the semi-darkness.

"I didn't know you were going to get shot at, if that's what you're thinking."

There was an awkward pause. Nick blew out a small breath and tried to collect his thoughts. "Yeah, great, Cassie. So what are we doing now?"

She seemed to be taken off guard by his dismissive tone. "I only saw where we were supposed to end up and I saw me drop the container – that's it." She explained, feeling the need to justify herself. She had almost gotten him killed; it frustrated her to no end. If only she could just Watch a little further…

"It doesn't matter," he replied, shaking his head. "What are we doing now?" he repeated impatiently, staring down at her expectantly. "Cassie --?"

"I heard you!" she snapped, trying to focus on the vision she had had little more than a minute earlier. "We came down an alleyway, right?" she asked distractedly. Nick nodded and Cassie's heart sank.

"They're here."

Almost as soon as the words came out of her mouth, a sound vibrated through the door and into the store room that made both of their minds erupt in excruciating pain. Cassie stumbled to the ground, hands raking into her pink-brown hair in agitation. Nick grit his teeth, his eyes streaming as he tried to focus on the door and Move whatever it was – _whoever _it was – on the other side.

The lock bust off the door and two Chinese Bleeders were revealed – the two that had been told to stay behind in case the mission to retrieve the suitcase didn't go as planned.

* * *

**Note: **I'll get Chapter 3 up a.s.a.p. Let me know if I'm on the right track here. Thanks for reading!

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

**Warnings: **There's a little more graphic violence towards the end of this chapter.

**Notes: **Thanks a lot for the reviews everybody. I think I've got a clearer idea of where the story's going now, and it's great to hear feedback on how it's going so far. Enjoy... (and I hope my lack of geographical knowledge doesn't show up too much :P )

* * *

**Chapter Three**

* * *

_Outside the Apartment Building, Hong Kong_

"I was under the distinct impression when I left that I couldn't be traced." Teresa said suddenly. She couldn't help but be slightly irritated, though she kept it thinly veiled with gratitude. "I left nothing behind when I left –"

"—Trust me, Teresa; you did."

His arrogant tone was all it took for her to fall silent. Her fists clenched several times down by her sides and she tried to keep up with his long strides, her heels clacking rapidly along the cement sidewalk. "So why did you come and get me, then?"

He paused and turned to face her. Her quick walk came to an abrupt halt and she found herself uncomfortably close to him; he smirked and began speaking regardless. "We're… cutting to the chase," he said, phrasing the statement carefully. "We're doing what Division's been hesitating over for years now."

Teresa looked down; the eye contact was, quite embarrassingly, causing her to flush. "And what might that be?" she probed, her tone as clipped as ever.

"We're wiping out the second generations before their abilities can get any weaker."

Teresa flinched; he tilted her chin upwards with one hand and she reluctantly met his gaze. "That's not possible. There are too many." Collecting the confidence that seemed to have scattered upon their meeting, Teresa gripped his wrist and lowered his hand, a challenging glint in her eye.

He smirked again – again reminding her of how much she would _love_ to wipe that smugness of his face – and shrugged. "We'll get the job done."

Within moments of his final syllable, Teresa snapped, "We'll see."

***

_A Truck Stop, North America_

She was wanted for murder. Kira knew her situation was different this time; Division didn't have to operate carefully like they had had to before. She had killed a man who was, essentially, a government worker – despite his top secret affiliation – and now they would be looking for her.

But what reasoning would they have to try and detain her again? Carver had given her the immunosuppressant back in Hong Kong and, as far as she knew, eradicated any trace of the testing drug. She was worthless to them now, and the only thing that could fuel a search for her was vengeance.

And, from what she had seen of them, Division workers didn't seem to have much compassion for their colleagues, alive or dead.

Kira leaned against one of the truck's enormous wheels and draped the blanket she had found in the back over her shoulders to protect her from the early morning chill. She had ran straight onto the main road as soon as she had escaped the facility and Pushed the first truck driver she could find, giving him no instruction but to just _drive._

Of course, he had had to stop for gas, and Kira could make allowances. Carefully, she removed the photograph from the breast pocket of her jacket and stared at it, taking in every feature on Nick's face and trying with all her might to just _remember_.

She could feel it fading; Carver's Push was getting weaker and weaker with every hour he was dead. In a few days, she would remember that day on Coney Island and she would be free of this constant state of confusion; she could go back to Nick with a clear mind.

The truck driver arrived by her side, reaching up to hoist himself into the driver's seat. He started up the engine -- a rather dazed look in his eyes as he did so -- and Kira hopped in the other side, catching his eye before he could do so much as put his foot down on the accelerator.

"I need you to take me to the nearest city," she dictated, her voice sounding oddly distorted in the small space. Glancing down at his trouser pocket, she added, "And I need your cell phone, too."

***

_Supermarket Store Room, Hong Kong_

The Bleeders entered the store room, their mouths hanging agape as they drew in as much breath as they needed to prepare a fatal blow. Their eyes narrowed as they looked around for their target; Cassie, having stumbled into the inky shadow of a stack of crates, went unnoticed.

The two of them converged around Nick. He was on his knees, his hands squeezing his ears so tight they were almost being forced into his head. Nick found it hard to define their silhouettes in the darkness, his eyesight blurred by tears of agony; he was too afraid to remove his hands in case a pin drop was all it took to finish him that he didn't dare try to Move them.

One of the Bleeders threw back his head and let out a shrill laugh that caused the windowpanes up and down the street to shake. "This is him?" he asked his brother in Chinese. "This is who killed father?"

The Bleeder looked down at Nick in disgust, the grief-stricken hysteria of his laugh giving way to furious disappointment. "_This_ is him?" he cried, lifting a boot and kicking Nick in the stomach. Nick crumpled, falling heavily to the floor without use of his arms to support him; they were too pre-occupied protecting his bleeding ears.

The other Bleeder gave a grunt of confirmation and looked to his brother for permission to do what they had come to do. With narrowed eyes the other nodded, and they took one step closer to Nick, sucking in one more deep breath for good measure.

They opened their mouths simultaneously; a second later they had collapsed in a heap next to one another, two gunshots resounding through the cavernous store room.

Cassie let out a silent scream, her hand shaking around the handle of the gun and her finger trembling on the trigger. The muscles in her hand seemed to have tightened, a sensation that seemed to have spread to her entire body and left her rigid. With all the will power she could muster, she forced herself to drop the gun and backed away, eyes wide.

She didn't know whether or not what was she was experiencing was an aftershock of murder or otherwise; she couldn't think straight due to a relentless, piercing headache and her body no longer felt numb. It felt weak.

Just as soon as she had come to this realisation, her knees buckled underneath her and she fell to the ground, unable to even prompt her body to move out of the awkward position it had landed in. Before she could make a coherent effort to call for Nick, everything went black.

Nick drove the palms of his hands even harder into the sides of his head, trying to numb the pain. It was not as bad as it had been the first time, but then again, this time he didn't have the luxury of falling unconscious. Wincing, he removed his hands slowly from his ears and lifted himself onto his knees, every creak in the building around him amplified tenfold.

He couldn't comprehend the scene – the two Bleeders were on the floor and judging by the pools of blood, they had been shot in the head. His eyes trailed along the ground until he saw the weapon that had done it, not far away from the slumped form of… Cassie.

His heart sank. He had given her the gun for emergencies only; it was one of the two he had told her to leave in the apartment for when he was cornered by the Stitcher. He hadn't expected her to ever need to use it.

Shuffling quickly to her side, he turned her body – which proved quite difficult considering her heavy, unconscious state – and lifted her head off the ground, saying softly, "Cassie?"

There was no flicker of a response from the girl. He repeated himself, more insistently this time, and lifted her head further off the ground until she was almost in a sitting position. Reluctantly – for he was afraid of what he might find – he pressed his fore- and middle-finger to the side of her neck and found a small, sluggish pulse there.

Panic coursed through his entire body but he tried to remain calm. Trying to remember the first aid training he had been taught back in high school, he brushed his fingers over her eyelashes, hopeful for some sort of flutter or reaction.

Her body didn't even stir. Eyes widening, Nick searched her expressionless, pale face and repeated desperately, "_Cassie_?!"

* * *

**Note: **Thanks a lot for reading, and again reviews are always appreciated...

~soiheard

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

**Note: **Sorry this one took so long, guys. Its still quite short - I was going to merge it with Chapter Five but I think that deserves its own Chapter. I'm using all canon characters at the moment, but I've introduced a few new faces. The canon characters I'm using are, of course, Nick, Cassie, Kira, Teresa (the Stitcher who healed Nick after the incident with the Bleeders in the movie), Emily (the Sniff who helped them find Kira). I might introduce a few more characters along the way - I've spent quite a lot of time fleshing out Teresa since I thought her character was quite interesting. Let me know in a review if that's working out.

I hope you enjoy, and the next chapter should be out by the weekend at latest.

* * *

**Chapter Four**

**

* * *

**

_Main Street, Hong Kong_

Nick's heavy breaths seared his throat as he ran as fast as he could out of the store room and into the street, his head pounding with every thudding footstep that he heard underneath him. He was holding Cassie in his arms and regardless of his rather disorientated sprint she still didn't stir – he gulped, interrupting his breathing patterns and making his puffing even more ragged than before.

Emergency services had arrived on the scene after the shooting, attentively checking every detail of the shattered window. A forensics worker was the first to notice him emerge from the narrow shadows of the alleyway; he called out to his colleague in rapid Chinese and Nick found several guns pointed at him from nearby policemen.

"No!" he cried, though it came out as a mere croak. "No… no! It's her, she's hurt!" He gestured wildly at the girl in his arms without dropping her, his eyes raking the quadrant for any sign of someone who might _understand_. "Please, she's hurt…"

A paramedic understood him and came forward, but not before several surrounding guns had been cocked. Nick gulped in air as quickly and as often as he could, trying to rationalise the thoughtless panic tearing apart his common sense and calm himself down. But he couldn't – she was hurt. Cassie was hurt. Cassie; the girl who, subconsciously, he had promised to protect for as long as it took for her to find her mother.

And even when that day came, he doubted it would be easy to relinquish his protectiveness, which made the prospect of having to do so _now_ even more unthinkable.

There were no slow motion moments in which he could consider his options; all he could see was the paramedic yelling at the police to lower their weapons and their firm ignoring of the man, seemingly promising that the paramedic could take the girl once the threat had been handled. Without much thought at all, Nick winced and managed to hold Cassie's body up by Moving her upwards a fraction.

With his two free arms, he thrashed forward and sent the seven surrounding policemen hurtling into their car doors. Loud groans were soon followed by noisy scrambles as they attempted to get back to their feet; Nick braced himself, his face bright red and glistening with sweat from the effort of multi-tasking.

His arms tensed in front of him and the oncoming bullets were deflected from both himself and Cassie's lifeless form hovering less than a metre away; several of them shattered windows, only worsening the commotion. With one last push of desperate effort, Nick waved his hands and bent the remaining police weapons until they were irreparable.

He gasped for breath, his eyes streaming and his teeth bared to contain a scream; he couldn't possible hold her for any longer. Reluctantly (though he didn't really have a choice in the matter) he loosened his telekinetic grip just enough for Cassie's body to drop with slightly less force onto the ground.

He followed, his own fall considerably less graceful, and landed sprawled on the ground.

***

_A Hotel Lobby, Hong Kong_

A gin and tonic clacked down onto the expensive oak bar.

"Nice place." Teresa commented with little emotion other than snobbish approval. She tentatively took the drink and sniffed it as discretely as possible – not discretely enough.

"You think I would tell a bartender I _don't know_ to spike your drink, Teresa?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow. "Perhaps you've been on your own too long – you've become paranoid –"

"The day will never come that I'll complain about being on my own for _too long_."

He smiled at this and sipped his own drink. There was no noise but for the polite ambience in the lobby; an ambience that seemed out of place in as busy a place as Hong Kong. In fact, the entire building looked like it didn't belong in the city. Finally, Teresa took a drink and set it down impatiently.

"You were going to explain."

"I was. Then again, I didn't know you were expecting assassination attempts."

"Just get on with it, Michael."

He gave no reaction but for that irritating smile and slid a thin file along the bar towards her. "All the research suggests that these powers are recessive – meaning that with each generation that goes by, they're getting weaker. The first solution was the drug. The plan was to boost the powers back to what they were and – obviously – it wasn't all that successful."

"So what's the plan, then?" Teresa interrupted, irritated. "You're just going to _cull_ all the second generations? I didn't think you of all people would ever cross the line separating necessity and stupidity –"

"Is it stupidity?" he asked, his grip on his glass tightening. "Is it stupid that I want to maintain our _gifts_ until we finally find out a way to restore them, Terri?"

She looked away and clutched her purse to her side, getting up from her plush barstool. "Yes, it is." She turned her back and walked a way a few paces before adding over her shoulder with as much venom as possible, "And it's [i]Teresa[/i]."

Michael was used to this kind of behaviour from her and, smiling, he called after her, "The car will pick you up here at eleven tonight."

Teresa turned the corner and pulled out her cell phone, letting her stern façade break if only for a second. It was nine o'clock in the morning now.

She didn't have much time.

***

_Emily Hu's Residence, Hong Kong_

It was too early for someone to be knocking on the door. For Emily, a woman who indulged in long slumbering mornings, it was _far_ too early -- especially after the night she had had, aiding Nick and Cassie in their efforts to stop Division. She hadn't heard back from them and she wasn't sure if she wanted to.

She just wanted to leave it all and go back to making well-paid living unearthing affairs and all other sorts of scandal for an extortionate fee.

It was this thought – that a potential client was at the door – that caused Emily to stir in her bed and run a brush through her tangled hair. She had slept in her clothes; she had been too exhausted to do anything else after such an exhausting night. Straightening the creases out, she approached the door and flicked the latch, opening it slightly.

"Yes?"

The woman on the other side shoved the door, causing Emily to stumble and relinquish her hold on it. The client walked in nonchalantly, her strides long and elegant. Emily narrowed her eyes and clicked her tongue irritably.

"Oh, hello, Teresa. Nice of you to drop by."

Teresa smirked but couldn't help glancing at her watch impatiently. "It is, isn't it?"

Emily asked the question that was currently preying on her mind. "I didn't know Division still had me on file –"

"They don't." Teresa said abruptly. "At least, they didn't when I left. All I had to do was ask a few of your _clients_ at the market and they gave me your address. Honestly, Emily; you're spending your time solving such trivial issues. What a waste."

Emily looked away. "Yes, well…"

"I need you to find me Nick Gant."

Teresa didn't have time for small talk. Before Emily could protest, she pulled a thick wad of cash from her coat pocket and offered it to the Sniff.

Emily hesitated before taking it. Ever cautious, she Sniffed the cash to check if it was genuine, and it was. She watched in her mind's eye as Teresa withdrew it from the bank – satisfied, she placed the cash on a table next to her.

Teresa quirked her eyebrow. "You thought _my _payment was Shifted? My standards haven't dropped _that_ far, Emily." Realising all this chit-chat was an unnecessary delay, she pulled a spare key to Nick's apartment from her pocket – she had taken it from his dresser on her way out with Michael.

"Here. Use this."

Emily nodded reluctantly and took the key, hovering it just below her nose. "He's at the hospital – the General, I think -- no visible injuries. Lots of security."

She lowered the key and handed it back to Teresa. Teresa stood uncertainly on the spot – she had the location, but there was something else she wanted…

"Thank you, Emily." She said with a curt nod, pulling her cell phone out of her pocket. "But I was wondering if you could find the owner of this phone. I'll pay extra."

Emily took the phone just as she had the key and pulled it away from her nose a lot sooner. "The owner's being Shaded. I… I can't see anything."

Teresa drew in a sharp breath, trying to hide her disappointment and more importantly, her worry. Dropping the promised cash next to the other wad, Teresa made her way out, muttering darkly under her breath, "Figures."

* * *

**Note: **Let me know what you think - I really appreciate reviews. :)

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

**Note: **This chapter's another short one and there'll more than likely be a few spelling errors. I was really excited to get this chapter out, though, so let me know what you think. The story takes quite a big turn at the end. Oh, and don't be too put off by the weirdness in Emily's section -- it'll make sense in future chapters.

* * *

**Chapter Five  
**_Emily Hu's Residence, Hong Kong_

Emily closed the door behind the Stitcher with a sigh of relief. She hadn't thought she would ever see her again, let alone that she would be a future client. She felt a small tug of guilt – after all, she had just sold out Nick and undoubtedly Cassie too. It had been part of the grand plan to evade Teresa and now their work had been undone.

Emily sat down on the edge of her bed and ran a hand through her hair. Everything was fine. It wasn't her fault if anything happened to them; she was no longer affiliated with them, as far as she was concerned.

Then why did she still have a niggling feeling at the back of her mind? She could almost still feel the cell phone in her head; she could still see the look of disappointment on Teresa's usually indifferent face. She had never been unable to Sniff something out; not being able to made her feel blindfolded.

It was a boy she was looking for, she knew that much. She had seen the dim outline of a face with no backdrop. The jaw was masculine and the only noticeable features were the eyes, piercing and almost amused – but at what? She couldn't see where he was, unless he was indeed in a pitch black room.

She could see the past of the cell phone vividly, but that wasn't what Teresa had been looking for and so she had said nothing. She had seen a younger Teresa sifting through a drawer, glancing nervously at the door behind her. She was in a bedroom. Typical posters lined the walls – bands, bikini-clad models. It was the typical bedroom of a teenage boy.

Teresa pulled a cell phone from the drawer and buried it in her pocket just before the bedroom door flew open. Just as Emily's viewpoint had swivelled to see who had opened it, that face flashed again and suddenly she could see no more.

Emily, brought back to reality, gave a light sniff to try and find something _more _amongst the tiny traces of scent still in her nostrils.

Her eyelids fluttered closed and she gripped the duvet underneath her, desperate to see something, if only to figure out some of the mystery behind the Stitcher.

The face flashed up again. It opened its mouth and let out a haunting, low scream.

Emily's eyes shot open and blood beaded at the corners. Before she could do so much as call for help, she took her last breath and slid onto the floor.

***

_General Hospital, Hong Kong_

Restraints were tied around his ankles and wrists and even his chest. There were four security men on the door and another five cameras pointed, unmoving, in the direction of the hospital bed on which he lay, gagged and bound.

Nick fell back into unconsciousness and continued falling through a dark void until, with a jolt, he woke up. The silence was disorientating until, with a startling bang, a gunshot echoed throughout the entire private wing of the hospital.

After seeing his displays of telekinesis in the quadrant, Nick had been dragged and detained, receiving necessary medical care but also being watched shrewdly by guards while scientists examined his sleeping form from the CCTV room down the corridor. The witnesses of his abilities had been paid to stay quiet; anyone who did otherwise would face legal action.

Nick's eyelids were open as far as possible as he tried to increase his peripheral vision to see what was going on. It failed; he had to listen, blood rushing around his ears, as there was a disturbance in the corridor and then abrupt silence.

The lock clicked and the automatic door to his cell opened. Teresa entered, flexing her fingers and grimacing at the guards, who had all had years worth of psychic damage inflicted on them.

She was glad she had stored so much – she had known it would come him handy one day.

Nick struggled as much as he could within his binds. Teresa shook her head. "Oh dear, Nick – you seem to have a knack of rubbing Bleeders up the wrong way, don't you?"

She approached further, one hand sliding up beneath his uncomfortable clinical robe. Her eyebrows arched as her fingers crept past his groin, up his torso and to his chest; her palm flattened between his ribs.

Nick was frozen in fear, unable to even shudder at her touch. He didn't know whether to brace himself or not; surely she wouldn't Stitch him and save him again after he had left her tied up in his apartment?

Her eyes widened suddenly and she pushed against his chest. He choked around his gag, trying to cry out as Bleeder damage was extricated painfully from his brain.

It was over within a couple of minutes. His eyes rolled into his head from the strain – he was unconscious again by the time she removed her hand from his chest.

Teresa set about undoing his binds and cutting his gag.

The removal of the gag led to him being able to take his first deep breath in hours – it woke him immediately and he swung his legs off the bed, waving a hand towards the Stitcher.

She should have been thrown through a wall from the force of the telekinetic blow. Instead, she grabbed his wrist just in time and his veins writhed beneath his skin.

"Do you want me to leave you here?" she asked, tightening her grip and replacing a trickle of the previously removed damage. He winced and shook his head forcefully and reluctantly.

"Good." She relinquished her grip and his hands jumped to his temples as he tried to calm his raging headache.

"They'll be here in a few seconds," she said, inclining her head towards the window embedded into the door. "You need to get us to Ward 9."

He looked up, his jaw set. "Why should I help you –?"

"—Cassie's there. She suffered severe brain trauma," she explained, frighteningly casual about it all. "I might be able to salvage some of her prissy little existence if you come with me _now_."

Nick got up and steadied himself, raising his hands out in front of him in preparation for the oncoming guards. Their running footsteps were getting closer and closer.

Maybe working with Teresa was a necessary sacrifice.

***

_An Airport, North America_

Kira was clutching onto the truck driver's cell phone like a lifeline. She was sitting on the edge of a car park at the nearest airport she could find, her breath misting in the cold air in front of her. She had left eighteen messages on Nick's cell phone telling him to meet her here. He was an hour late.

Perhaps she had put too much faith in him. The acknowledgement made her heart sink.

She had Pushed the truck driver one final time; he was to leave and never mention giving her a ride. He had nodded with a dim look of acceptance and drove off onto the motorway, leaving her _alone._

She hadn't thought she would be alone for long. She had been expecting Nick to run off the next plane that arrived after receiving her messages; but he wasn't here. The plane had touched down and then taken off with its next load of passengers.

What ifs sprung from every corner of her mind. What if he didn't come, what if that 'See You Soon' had been a lie… surely Nick wouldn't lie to her like Carver had. She _knew_ that was impossible. They had photographic evidence.

Then again, wasn't one of Nick's friends a Shifter? That photo could have been shifted – maybe she had just been a tool in Nick's revenge on Carver.

Eyes narrowed, she dialled Nick's number on the cellphone and pushed it to her ear, desperate for him to pick up and reassure her. The dial tone rang over and over, over and over, teasing her with its monotony.

Meanwhile, in Hong Kong, Nick's cell phone vibrated feebly on the floor of the Supermarket Store Room.

Kira threw the cell phone to the ground with a frustrated cry that caused those sitting under the car park shelter to edge away. She glanced down at the inside pocket of her jacket, terrified of what she might find within.

Slowly, she lifted the photo out, handling it as if it were made of glass. She tried to steady her trembling hands and looked down at it.

The photo was no longer a photo - it was a square of blank paper.

* * *

**Note: **As always I'd love to know what you think of the story so far, don't hesitate to leave a review. :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Note: **Phew, I can't tell you how relieved I am to finally get this one out. I'm sorry it took so long to update, everyone! I'm writing it in short bursts whenever I have time and the plot seems like its still chugging along nicely, so *crosses fingers* we'll see where it goes from here. Let me know what you think!

**Chapter Six**

_Hong Kong General Hospital, Nick's Cell_

Teresa drew in one final breath to fuel her through the next few minutes and ducked behind the door. She stared at Nick, her gaze insistent. He couldn't mess up now or it would be the end of them.

He could feel her eyes burning into him but tried to maintain his immovable stance regardless of the pressure. They were thudding down the corridor on the other side of the door, their footfalls reverberating powerfully through the floor and making his hands tremble – he didn't know if he would be able to take all of them down. Ever since his father had been so easily disposed of by Division, he'd had some deep-rooted doubt in his abilities; now, he realised, was probably not the best time to explore such a doubt.

And so he replayed the scene from his childhood in his head, his face becoming even more determined with each Division agent he saw his father throw through a wall in his mind's eye. He couldn't see his father actually _doing _it – Nick still didn't understand if it was a little something, maybe a manoeuvre, that made his father so powerful.

The footsteps stopped outside and Nick, with a flicker of hope, wondered if that little something was automatic.

The door opened. He tensed.

_Hong Kong General Hospital, Ward 9_

Cassie's head lolled against her pillow as every nurse in the ward set about removing her from the room and taking her to safety. There had been a security alert – they had been told to transport all the patients to another hospital. The most injured patients were a priority; one nurse bit her lip and looked down at the frail-looking girl on the stretcher.

The nurse called a panicked slur of Chinese over her shoulder at an assistant and the assistant threw open the door wide enough for the stretcher to move through. Just as she did so, however, a guard that had been propelled through the air from the other side of the corridor landed with a crunch in the doorway.

The assistant had not yet covered red alerts in her training and found herself completely overwhelmed; she let out a whimper that became a scream, that squeaked into silence when she was shoved into the doorframe by an invisible force.

Nick leapt into the room, closely followed by Teresa. The remaining nurses grabbed for the walkie-talkies strapped to their collars and managed to utter a few syllables before the machines were dismantled before their eyes. With a heaving breath, Nick flicked his fingers and the pieces clattered to the floor.

Teresa was disappointed in his fatigue. His father, she remembered, had always seemed to have a limitless amount of power when she had known him – his son should've been the same. In that recognition, she began to see some legitimacy in Michael's claims that the abilities were recessive.

Impatient, she planted her hands on the shoulders of the two nurses and channelled a dizzying amount of damage into them. They fell to the floor.

"Stitch her up," Nick gasped, still needing to support himself on the edge of Cassie's bed. He couldn't bear to look at her weakened body. "Quickly. Quickly!"

Teresa crossed the room and gripped the girl's pale hands in hers. New life shuddered through Cassie's body as the damage was repaired – her chest jolted up and down as her lungs began to take in more air and her heartbeat became more rapid. Her eyes opened and she sat up. Teresa let go and looked expectantly at Nick.

"So are we going to stand around _all_ day?"

**An Airport, North America**

Kira walked at an unstoppable pace out into the middle of the runway, devoid of any planes but for a small, private jet. One hand was fidgeting with a crumpled up square of paper – one that had once been a photograph of great meaning – and the other was buried in her pocket, her fingers playing against the trigger of a gun she had stolen from a security guard on the airport door.

Weapons weren't necessary – at least, not _now_. She narrowed her eyes, hoping despite her current fury that they wouldn't be necessary _later_.

The pilot in the cockpit of the jet peered over his controls at the oncoming woman. She wasn't wearing a uniform, which meant she wasn't someone there to prepare the runway. Her gaze flicked up at his and he felt himself overcome with a strange sensation – one which prompted him to flick the switch on the door of the jet.

The name of one location echoed around the cockpit, or so it seemed – the words seemed far too hollow to be natural. They bulldozed any other intentions he may have had.

Kira ascended the staircase onto the jet and settled into a seat next to the pilot in the cockpit.

Her eyes were completely consumed by the black of her pupils – in a seductive whisper, she said that very same word that had gripped the pilot.

"Hong Kong."

_A Busy Road, Hong Kong_

Michael felt nervous.

He didn't know whether it was wise to employ such a temperamental woman as Teresa – she was known to remain freelance regardless of her organisation. They had history, though, and he was hoping that would be enough incentive for her to remain faithful to him. His eyes flicked down at his watch just in time to see the hands turn to eleven o'clock.

The driver pulled up and parked the Rolls Royce just outside the Continental Hotel, their meeting place. She wasn't there – if he squinted, he couldn't even see her sitting in the lobby. Jaw tightening at the prospect of being double-crossed, Michael pulled his phone from his pocket angrily.

Just as he did so, it buzzed in his hand, alerting him to a text message. His fingertips fumbled over the buttons.

the hospital. come now. T

He looked up and rapped a hand on the driver's booth. "Change of plan," he called. "Head to the general."

The brake clicked as the car dismounted from the pavement, leaving Michael to wonder why on earth Teresa would choose such an indiscrete meeting place and why she was there in the first place.

_Behind Hong Kong General Hospital, Hong Kong_

"Get us out of here."

Teresa glanced at Nick, watching as he thrust a hand in the direction of the wall. It crumbled, an ample chunk separating completely and leaving them space to escape. Nick carried Cassie through and Teresa followed, her eyes scaling up and down the street outside, watching for an approaching car.

"Nick," she said. He ignored her; he was completely distracted by Cassie's semi-conscious body. Although she had been fully healed, the fatigue had taken its toll. "Nick!" Teresa snapped. He turned his head a fraction.

"_What?_"

She closed her eyes for a moment. "I need your help."

Nick turned his head completely in her direction and shook it slowly. "No."

"This isn't a request, it's a command. If you don't do it I can leave _her_ in just as bad a state as she was before."

Nick's face hardened and his grip on Cassie tightened protectively. "What?" he spat.

"I need you to safeguard someone. This is confidential. If you tell _anyone_, you will pay a very dear price," she said warningly, inclining her head slightly and sifting through one of her inside pockets. "This is a photo of him – his name is Ben Stowe. I've given you a card, too – it's the number of an old friend of mine. He's a Tracer."

Nick took the two small items grudgingly.

"You need to disappear," Teresa added, already walking away. "Now."

Nick backed away hesitantly, Cassie still in his arms. He was completely bemused by the woman – especially when, once he was safely concealed around a corner, she got into a barely visible Rolls Royce and drove away.

The alarm was still blaring through the entire hospital. Looking for any available alleyways, Nick shook Cassie awake and lifted her to the ground, waiting for her legs to adjust before relinquishing his grip and letting her stand unsupported.

"Cassie?" he asked, lowering himself so he was on eye level with her. "Cassie!" he snapped his fingers in front of her face, waiting for the haze in her eyes to clear. It did and she moaned tiredly, swaying slightly.

"We need to go down there, 'kay? Just follow me. Quickly."

He set off, gesturing for her to follow his lead.

"Nick?"

He paused and turned to face her. "What?"

Cassie looked disapprovingly at his hospital gown. "You need some clothes."


	7. Chapter 7

**Note:** It's been a long time since the last chapter, and I'm not even sure I can do a decent job of returning to the story since I can't remember everything very clearly. I'll try my best, because despite how erratic my updates have been, I really enjoy writing this story and reading any feedback it gets. Also, let me tell you now that I have no knowledge of Hong Kong geography and so any mention of certain districts is there for authenticity and not accuracy.

So here it is… let me know what you think.

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

_Unknown Location, Hong Kong_

"This is who she wants me to find."

Cassie looked up, genuinely surprised that Nick had managed to break the seemingly impenetrable silence. She took the Polaroid photo he offered her and gave it a quick look over. "Cute. Who is he?"

Nick glanced up at her distractedly and took the Polaroid back, trying to remember the name. "Ben Stowe… I need to 'safeguard' him."

Cassie quirked her eyebrows and Nick rolled his eyes. "… _We_ need to safeguard him, then." He shared a small smile with the girl. "Either way, it won't matter much unless we find _this_ guy." Cassie leaned over to look at the piece of paper in Nick's hand. "No name, just a number," he explained, resting his head against the threadbare headrest of the sofa. "You know, I think Teresa _enjoys_ being cryptic –"

"She saved me, didn't she?" Cassie interrupted, her eyebrows fritting once more. "How come she's always there at the right time? First you, then me… we might as well just carry her around in a first aid pack."

"I don't think we'll be seeing her for a while this time," Nick told her, not at all concerned by the woman's absence from his life – in fact, it almost brightened his sullen mood. "She disappeared once we got out the hospital."

"Oh." Ever since Teresa had mentioned her mother back when she was Stitching Nick, Cassie had felt a dependence on the woman. She had been under the impression that Teresa was one of her rapidly vanishing leads to finding her mother; she hadn't dared mention it to Nick. A small frown dimpled her features and she fell silent.

They sat like that for several more minutes; Cassie determined not to look anywhere else but the strand of purplish hair with which she was fidgeting and Nick drifting in and out of a deep sleep. The bizarre harmony was interrupted by the arrival of Pinky, who had been called to Shade them just as he had Kira so they could evade the Hong Kong authorities for however long it took for them to recuperate.

They had been there little more than twelve hours.

"Time's up, Nick."

Nick's eyelashes fluttered apart and he groaned. "Really?" Getting up with great difficulty from the sofa, he reached into his pocket and placed a five dollar bill on Pinky's open palm. Pinky tilted his head.

"I don't do fives, Nick. I've just Shaded you guys for twelve hours straight."

Nick fixed him with a stare. "Are you kidding? We've already paid you for Kira –"

"—and that was a different job entirely." Pinky told him, his voice taking on a more aggressive edge. "Where is she, anyway?"

Nick glanced away momentarily, refusing to answer. Disconcerted by his silence, Cassie walked up behind him and said, "She'll be in America by now."

Nick flinched at her words before forcing himself to nod. "Yeah, she will. Cassie, we need more money. Apparently Pinky doesn't so favours." He said pointedly, glaring. Pinky narrowed his eyes and closed his hand when Cassie had filled it with a sufficient amount of ten dollar bills.

"That'll do – now get gone."

"One condition," Nick said suddenly. Cassie came to a halt halfway to the door. "We need to use your phone."

With a grunt, Pinky picked the receiver off the wall and handed it over gruffly. "You've got five minutes."

Nick dialled the number written on the piece of paper and, just as Pinky crossed through the doorway into his motel bedroom, said sharply, "That'll do."

Pinky grumbled a hoarse swear word and slammed the door behind him.

**

_Headquarters, Yuen Long District_

A Rolls Royce mounted the sidewalk and its engine rumbled away into silence. Little more than a minute later Teresa stepped out, clutching her handbag to her side and swiping a stray curl out of her eyes. She tutted and shook her head.

"Really, Michael… you could've at least bought out your own headquarters. I thought you said this operation had nothing to do with Division?"

Michael, straightening up his tie, skirted round the Rolls Royce and arrived by her side. "Division's been told this is a facility for hypothetical research – trust me, they won't look into it. Division doesn't look into anything that involves _theories_ anymore."

"Fair enough." She adjusted the lapel of her coat and tapped her heel. "Shall we go in, then?"

Michael nodded and ushered her into the building. He gave a curt nod to one of the two receptionists and an elevator pinged behind them; Teresa followed Michael in and watched shrewdly as he pressed the button for the top floor.

"So what's your problem with these 'recessive genes', Michael?" Teresa turned to face him, her eyebrows arched in mild amusement that she had finally found a weakness in this seemingly invincible man. "They're not doing too much damage, are they? I've _certainly _never noticed any –"

"—Ever since I can remember," he began, trying unsuccessfully to speak through gritted teeth, "I've only been able to Change my face and torso. Do you know how deprived that makes me feel… how inadequate?"

A smirk lifted Teresa's lips and, quite sardonically, she replied, "I can only imagine."

* * *

**Note:** OK, I know not much happened there, but that has definitely helped me clarify where I am with this fic. As always, let me know what you think, and the next chapter should be out _a lot _sooner. ~ soiheard


End file.
